To Love a Lord
by Erin Caldwell
Summary: Sometimes we start out searching for one thing, yet find another. The story of an aqua-haired Pegasus Knight that first sought to avenge fallen comrades, but was soon caught up in something much larger. EliwoodxFiora
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright, then, here's my second attempt at a Fire Emblem fic (thanks very much to all of those who reviewed the first one, "Those we Leave Behind"), and what will hopefully be my first ever completed multi- chaptered fic. Eliwood/Fiora, if you can't tell- other pairings are pretty much open at this time. If you've got any pairings you'd like to see (other than Hector/Lyn), just let me know and I'll try and work them in. Thanks very much!  
  
~~~  
  
Wind was gusting out of the northeast, the conjured fire sizzling loudly when a stray drop of rain ended its fall in the flames. The fog that had been present for the past several days was slowly diminishing, blowing off the island and over the sea. No doubt more would be in by nightfall, for a small island could hardly hope to be free of the sea's fog for long.  
  
The aqua-haired pegasus knight sighed deeply, her chin resting in cupped hands as she stared into the fire. It was so alive, so vibrant- the shadows were pushed away from it, revealing the vague outlines of tents set close to one another, all hastily but expertly erected, lights dancing around the outer edges of the flame's reach. A soft snoring noise came from one of the tents, startling the young woman for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure- it was the brown-haired archer's tent. What was his name- Phil? Wil? She'd ask Florina tomorrow.  
  
There was so little she knew about this group, Fiora thought with a frown. Nothing about why they who they were or why they were here- Florina had pointed out a few of the people in the band, but to Fiora, they seemed like a bunch of ill-matched fighters. With three lords on board, as well, it would be little wonder if they would be able to fight as a group.  
  
Yet for some reason, the lords all seemed to respect Brock, their tactician- a young man with a ready smile and slightly large ears, a little heavy-set but looking as though he'd lost some weight suddenly over the last fortnight or so. Due to heavy traveling, no doubt, as well as the mental strain of commanding an army.  
  
Those thoughts triggered memories that she did not want to see, and Fiora squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if trying to block out the pictures, as if she could quell the screams by erasing the visions.  
  
Yarra, dead before she hit the ground, the head of a lance protruding from between her shoulder blades as she fell into the churning sea, her spirited stallion of a pegasus with his wing hanging limp on his right, but still hopelessly beating at the air, trying to hover above the place she had fallen. Reillan, her face and arms a mess of bruises and cuts, but still doggedly hanging on before her mare was shot down, both of them shrieking as they crashed through the canopies of the forests. Sixteen others that she had been friends with, all fallen in battle.  
  
But the worst by far had been Ceo. A new recruit, but one with more talent than most hoped to gain in their first ten years of training. She had retreated with Fiora, never once slacking her attacks, even when it became apparent that they were the last two left. They had risen into the air, hoping to outdistance their pursuers, clinging to the slightest chance that no arrows would find them in their flight.  
  
The First Division had never been renown for their luck.  
  
Ceo had fallen into the sparse trees, and Fiora, recognizing that she had a better chance with Makar on the ground than in the air, followed swiftly. But Ceo was already down, one arrow impaled in her left leg, the other in her stomach, her pegasus nowhere in sight.  
  
'Sorry, Commander.' Ceo's pain-filled voice reached Fiora once more, and the pegasus knight reached up to brush away her tears with the back of her hand. The arrow in the leg had come out cleanly enough, Ceo biting hard on a stick to keep from screaming. But when the second arrow had come out...  
  
The pegasus knight began to sob quietly, wishing the images away, her head buried in her hands. "No, please don't..." Ceo screaming in pain, her whole body writhing as Fiora had tried to tug the arrow from her stomach. The young woman coughing up blood should have been sign enough to stop, but Fiora was bound and determined that they would not die, not here- not when she was half-blinded by blood that ran from a cut on her scalp, not when the fingers of her left hand looked suspiciously broken from a sharp blow of an ax handle, not when they were the last two here.  
  
But she had pulled anyways, not stopping until Ceo's innards could be seen, being pulled out with the arrow, its cruel barbs catching her insides and tearing them out. Nothing could stop the young woman's panicked screaming, her shrieks splitting the night and silencing the rest of the world.  
  
Fiora sobbed harder then, not bothering to shut out how she could only stare at the young woman begging for death to take her, to let her end the pain. She knew that the young woman couldn't have held on for more than a minute, but somehow it seemed as though the agonized screeching had gone on for an eternity.  
  
The bandits had not followed her, assuming that each arrow had found a different mark, that they no longer had the First Division to worry about. She had come this far, and by a stroke of pure luck, had stumbled upon Florina and the band she traveled with. Now was a chance for revenge, for redemption, a chance to keep the others sacrifices from being in vain. They would kill those on this island, and whether they were the same enemies Fiora had faced or not, they were what the division had been sent to dispatch.  
  
And so they would.  
  
There was a shifting from one of the tents, where the crimson-eyed girl was sleeping, watched over by the Lord Eliwood and the elder paladin. Although no light was struck, Fiora knew that she had awoken someone- which person, she did not intend to find out.  
  
Levering herself off the ground, Fiora brushed her hand across her face again and darted to her tent, the one that she would not have to share with anyone, thank Elimine. She did not want to see anyone this night.  
  
Perhaps in the morning, when the sun was here to banish the dreams that plagued her nights, she would be able to speak to the rest of the group. But for now, when panicked shrieks of a girl barely sixteen years old were still echoing in her ears, silencing everything around her, she did not want to face anyone.  
  
She would deal with her shame on her own. There was no reason to pull any of the others into it.  
  
"It is my duty," Fiora whispered as she slipped into her bedroll, watching a tall silhouette emerge from the tent where the Lord Eliwood was sleeping, their figure cut in sharp relief against the dancing light of the fire. "No sacrifices will be in vain."  
  
With that, she turned on her side and drifted off into an uneasy sleep, her dreams thanklessly free of arrows and fallen comrades. 


	2. Chapter 2

Wow- I was really shocked and pleased by the number of reviews- thank you very much, everyone (which, at the time of writing, includes Knight-Lord Eliwood, potter29vo, Morning Mist, The Story Master 125, and Zfantasy). Due to a few people asking, Erk/Serra is going to be included- it's not my favorite couple, but it keeps me from having to decide between Erk and someone else for Priscilla. Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed!  
  
~~~  
  
Amazing how he fits all of that in there, Fiora thought with a slight smile at the sight of the portly, balding merchant, relentlessly organizing weapons, books of magic, and all the odds and ends that one could expect to need on a journey such as this.  
  
At the sound of her entry, the man glanced away from his work, sighing. "Ah, the new recruit?" His voice was short and terse, and the pegasus knight didn't know whether to smile or scowl- but a closer look as the weapons, the swords gleaming dully from where they hung on pegs, lances not piled on top of each other but instead held in separate racks, wrapped in cloth, books of magic without so much as a scuff or a stain, and the heaviest of axes treated with the utmost care, not to mention the man, awake when the sun was barely over the horizon, dark circles and frown lines telling of immense weariness and stress- she opted for a short bow instead.  
  
"I do have that honor, sir," she replied, straightening her back. "Florina, my younger sister- she told me that I could obtain some weapons here. I'm afraid that I need something lighter than my steel lance- my iron one broke in my previous-"her voice caught for a moment- "battle, and the steel one is a bit heavy for my tastes. May I?"  
  
The man huffed again, reaching down to one of the lower shelves and pulling a lance from it, carefully unwrapping a soft cloth from around the spearhead before handing it to me. "There you are, Dame..."  
  
"Fiora, of the first Division of the Pegasus Knights of Ilia." Inclining her head again, Fiora then placed the lance at attention, head held higher than it had been before. "It is my honor, sir."  
  
At that moment, Fiora knew that she should have stayed and learned the man's name, but the mention of her division, even though she had named it herself, caused tears to well in her eyes, and she retreated, pushing through a battalion of capes in her haste to be gone.  
  
Almost all eyes turned to Fiora as she strode through the camp to where Makar was tethered, most looking politely- or disinterestedly- away, but a few followed her from the moment that she could see them until the moment that she left. But Fiora supposed that she was quite odd, smiling as one girl, hair tied back with a bandana, met her gaze and smiled in a friendly manner.  
  
Fiora nodded back politely, wondering how old the girl was- she hadn't gotten a good look at everyone, but the girl, freckled and with a large, friendly smile, couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. From what she had seen, there were only a few people who had been trained in the actual art of war for very long at all.  
  
Who am I to judge a person for their age? Fiora thought with a start, one hand stealing up to brush her hair out of her face. I was younger than she when I went off to officially train, and Elimine knows how long I had been play-jousting with Farina with tree branches and wooden swords. I fought my first battles younger than she, as did even Florina, and Florina has not half the confidence that the archer has.  
  
That brought another pang of regret, as well, the memory of finding Florina an elderly, ailing pegasus rider to train under, for few others wanted a girl so young and so naïve. And she had still scrimped and saved to get the gold the old woman demanded in order to train someone.  
  
How old had she been then? Fifteen? Florina would have been twelve, perhaps thirteen at the time, far younger than what the archer looked now. And with a spirit so easily broken, as well.  
  
But, Fiora mused, realizing that her feet had already carried her to Makar's tether, the mare neighing lightly as she recognized her rider's approach, Florina's spirit had not been broken. She had been shy, but now, under the care of those in the group, she had blossomed. Florina had known what would become of her, knew that there was little option for her other than the mercenary way.  
  
The archer girl knew nothing such as that, could have had a life that would have kept her free from ever knowing war and death. She had other paths that could have been tread, but she also seemed to have an optimism and cheerful demeanor that could be dealt harsh blows when the full realization of what being in a group like this meant began to sink in. There would be no turning back to friendlier paths for the archer, no chance to go back and resume the life of peace she could have led.  
  
She and her sisters would never know the pangs of regret that came from choosing the wrong life- their paths had been clearly marked before they even knew that such paths existed. There would be no false hope of returning to a life of peace after they had lived one of mercenary hire.  
  
Perhaps the archer girl did have more to lose, would be far more broken when the fighting was done, than she could ever imagine.  
  
Makar nipped the bottom of her skirt politely, as if to remind her that it was feeding time. "Sorry, sweetie," Fiora murmured quietly, taking the few steps to her tent and scooping out a portion of oats from a small bag. She should have gotten more from the merchant while she was there, the pegasus knight realized with a start. Besides, there was no sweet smell of fresh grain coming from her bag, just that of oats heading towards staleness.  
  
But Makar ate them anyways, chomping loudly as Fiora tried to buckle the nosebag behind the mare's ears. "Easy, there. You're not starving," Fiora murmured as she reached up to the pegasus's mane, combing her fingers through it until no tangles remained. "You need a good currying, Makar- I'm sorry that I didn't give you one last night. It was quite hectic."  
  
Makar snorted and shook her head, as though acknowledging her rider's apology. Fiora chuckled softly, then once more returned to her tent, digging a curry comb and a soft brush out of her bags.  
  
She set about grooming Makar with gusto, smiling as the mare leaned into the brushing whenever her rider found a particularly itchy spot. "Feels good, doesn't it?" In response, the pegasus grunted loudly, leaning even more heavily against the brush. "Silly girl. You act like you haven't gotten a good brushing in weeks."  
  
Finishing quickly with the curry, Fiora now set about smoothing down the nearly white coat and brushing off any remaining flakes of dust. She was far from silent as she worked, humming a ditty quite tunelessly.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
The loud greeting, coming from almost immediately behind Fiora, startled her badly, and she immediately turned around, brushes still in hand. "Oh, I'm sorry," the knight apologized immediately, the smiling pink-haired girl's gaze passing quickly from Fiora's face down to her clothing, and then back behind her to Makar. "I'm Fiora—"  
  
"Florina's sister," the girl interrupted quickly, craning her neck to try and see over Fiora's shoulder- the height difference was quite pronounced. "I'm Serra, a cleric of Ostia, and serving only because of my support and friendship for the dearest Lady Lyndis, and that the Lord Hector almost insisted that I come along."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Fiora responded without missing a beat, inclining her head politely. The girl was, ah, friendly enough, if far too forward in her comments. Serra did not seem to want to make much conversation, and Fiora knew her gaze was directed firmly at Makar, seeing little else around. "Ah, and this is Makar, my pegasus."  
  
Serra immediately stopped her craning, as though Fiora's calling attention to the mare rendered her less interesting. "She's pretty," the cleric commented earnestly, and Fiora forgave her brashness somewhat- a pegasus rider took constant delight in compliments about their steeds. "Not that I came to talk about her, mind you- I was wondering if there was anything that you needed."  
  
The words were said with such a practiced air that Fiora had little doubt the girl had been instructed to come over and ask her if everything was all right. "No, no, I'm fine, thank you. I'll need some more oats for Makar soon, though."  
  
"Mm-hmm, then, I'll tell Merlinus!" Serra exclaimed, darting away before Fiora could say anything else. The young woman chuckled despite herself, wondering if she had ever been that eager to get done with her duties. No, she thought, duty was everything to a pegasus knight, especially Fiora. There was little else to live for other than to bring honor to Ilia.  
  
Makar looked with distaste at the retreating cleric, then buckled her legs underneath her body, lowering herself to the ground. "Lazy," Fiora chuckled, then thought with a start that joining Makar looked like a good idea; most everyone was just now awakening and heading for breakfast, and she was far from hungry. Surely she could steal a few more minutes of sleep. Exhaustion was not easily removed from aching muscles and legs that needed nothing more than a good, long rest.  
  
The ground was clammy, the fog dampening everything it touched, but it mattered little to Fiora. Makar was warm and clean, and as she laid her head on the mare's shoulder, the last thing she knew before dozing off was the pegasus's wing gently covering her as Makar napped, as well.  
  
~~~  
  
Fiora awoke to a gentle prodding on her shoulder, and was awake in an instant. Florina, startled at her sister's sudden actions, had jumped back a few inches, but was still smiling. "We're packing up- I thought you'd want to know."  
  
Smiling gratefully at her younger sister, Fiora pushed herself off the ground- a hand to the buttocks confirmed that the seat of her skirt was quite wet, and probably dirty, as well. She needed a bath and clean clothes so badly... You'll get them. Patience, Fiora thought to herself.  
  
"Are- are you still tired?" Florina asked, her hands clasped in front of her, fingers twined about each other. "We really do have to move along- Lord Eliwood wants to make all haste- or else I'm sure we could stay a while longer."  
  
"I'm fine." Fiora placed a hand on top of Florina's in reassurance, speaking with a confidence that she did not feel. She was far from fine, in truth- it was only now that the aches were beginning to reawaken in her body, pain that she had managed to forget in her attempt to find the Black Fang. Now she had found them, and it was almost a relief to open the floodgates, let the long-denied pain wash over her. "I'll manage. It's you I'm worried about- how have you fared?"  
  
The lavender-haired girl seemed to brighten at that, holding her hands up to her heart. "Oh, wonderfully! Lady Lyndis has been so kind, as has the rest of the party. The tactician- Brock, who you already met- he's nice, as well, and has letting me train up slowly. Everyone's very kind, truly."  
  
Florina's smile was genuine, and Fiora couldn't help but note that her sister was carrying herself differently- just a little, but straighter, and with a quicker smile and pinker cheeks then she last remembered. Perhaps Florina would not be broken by the fighting, but made stronger by the camaraderie.  
  
"Huey looks good," Fiora commented, calling up an image of Florina's mare from the fight yesterday. Well-groomed, she had looked tired, but fit, rider and mount on the front line of attackers. "She balances better to your attacks than when I saw you last. You both look more at ease."  
  
Florina shrugged, but a light blush touching her cheekbones showed pride at her accomplishment. "I've been practicing."  
  
"I can tell. Your fighting was wonderful." Florina blushed more heavily this time, her eyes fixed firmly on Fiora's boots. Perhaps the shy Florina had not been changed as much as Fiora had first believed. "You know I wouldn't flatter you idly."  
  
The younger girl nodded lightly, smiling in delight. "I know, sister. I just- thank you. Do you need any help taking down your tent?"  
  
Fiora chuckled at the quick change in subject, brushing her hair out of her face with a small scowl; she was going to have to re-tie it before they started moving. "No, I'm sure you still have more to pack. I can manage."  
  
Bobbing her head, Florina scampered off, Fiora shaking her head softly and smiling at the disappearance of the girl. Makar snorted loudly, raising herself off the ground, and surveying her now-dirty coat with some distaste. "Oh, Makar, we shouldn't have done that, eh?" Fiora asked dismally. "I don't have time to give you a proper grooming now, we've got to pack!"  
  
Stakes were quickly pulled from the ground, and the unwieldy canvas tent rolled into as compact a bundle as was possible. Makar looked at the object with some distaste, but made no objections- he'd gotten used to carrying the tent in the past few weeks.  
  
Brushes were returned to saddlebags, and Fiora paused her packing only for one moment, in which she untied her headband, ran her fingers through her aqua-hued hair, and retied it. Blowing a loose strand away from her face, she swung into Makar's saddle, the pegasus shaking his mane slightly, and quickly tangling that which Fiora had spent so long combing.  
  
The rest of the group had already assembled, and Fiora flushed as Makar walked over to where the others were waiting on her- but, by the looks of Serra's pink-tinged cheeks, the cleric had just run over to the group. They couldn't have been waiting longer than a minute, the mercenary decided, and for that she was immensely glad.  
  
"Let's start, then," Brock said after a moment, and the entire group set off from the camp, now empty and gray in the wafting mist, when it had, just a few hours ago, been merrily occupied by a rather interesting group of fighters.  
  
Fiora allowed herself to lag in the back, watching as Florina followed closely behind Lyndis- it was still hard to think of the bright young woman, whom she had met only once before, as a Lady- and did not seem to notice that a young man in red armor followed behind them closely, hand on the hilt of his sword, as if watching every movement around them for potential danger.  
  
The forest was thick around them, mist twining in and out of the trees that threatened to overtake the narrow path many times along its route. Yet, as deep as they were in the forest, there was no sound other than the hoof beats of the horses and pegasii, muffled by the constantly damp ground. Fiora pitied those who didn't have anything to ride; those in heavy armor seemed to be miserable, with the heavy moisture in the air, as well as the sometimes-soggy footing.  
  
As they wound their way down the path, Fiora became increasingly obvious that the red-haired lord Eliwood had dropped behind the rest of the group, giving her a casual smile when he could.  
  
The crimson-eyed girl's gaze followed the lord from her seat atop the elder Paladin's white gelding, but the young man didn't seem to notice. Fiora couldn't help but smile at that, wondering if Eliwood was so dense that he didn't notice what was close to an obsession. She was a pretty girl, with long, smooth light-green hair and bedecked in clothing that was unsuitable for such a trip. Any lord would notice the attention of a girl such as that. Unless he's far stupider than any noble I've ever heard of. Or far more intelligent.  
  
Lost in her musings, Fiora failed to notice that Eliwood was now walking next to Makar, easily keeping pace with the long-legged mare. "Fiora, is it not?"  
  
Momentarily startled, Fiora was quick to regain her seating, smiling a bit at her own jumpiness. "Yes, my lord-"she paused for a moment, wondering if his name was in order, as well- "Eliwood."  
  
The red-haired young man seemed satisfied with her answer for a few minutes, continuing in silence; Fiora couldn't decide if it was comfortable or entirely tense and strained. She took the time to look Eliwood up and down, noting that his long, slender rapier was well sheathed, unlike the swords of a few others in the company. Although he walked at ease, it seemed as though he was alert, giving Fiora the impression of a lean wolf pricking its ears forward.  
  
"So, Fiora, have you gotten used to being in our ranks?"  
  
The question came out of nowhere, and it took the pegasus knight a half- moment to realize that Eliwood was addressing her. "Yes. Thank you, my lord." Fiora swallowed consciously, wondering where her training of how to act around those in command had disappeared. "We mercenaries are quick to adapt to new commands."  
  
Eliwood paused to digest that for a moment, then smiled up at her and continued. "Yes, you are of the pegasus knights of Ilia, are you not? Seeing the way you fight, I can imagine their quality."  
  
How closely had he been watching her on the battlefield to make a comment like that? Surely, Fiora thought with a slight frown, he did it for all new recruits- it was not only the tacticians fault if someone a lordling allowed in the group was cut down in mid-battle. Yet there was no time to think about that, either, as such a compliment required immediate notice. "Your praise is an honor. I will do my best not to betray your trust in my skills."  
  
Eliwood's face changed when she said that, and it seemed to Fiora that he was dropping a mask- either that or assuming one. "Please, don't worry about formalities with me. We are equals, fighting for a common cause."  
  
What? There was no quick response to that from Fiora, and she stared conscientiously down at her hands, then at Makar's mane. "Equals... But my lord..."  
  
"I like to think of everyone in this troop as a friend," Eliwood continued, "regardless of standing, age, or gender. All are friends and all are irreplaceable."  
  
Friends such as she'd had in her division, friends that were still irreplaceable, no matter how much she might wish it otherwise. Swallowing again, Fiora blinked back tears that threatened to spill over. What a way to act- crying as if you're eleven!  
  
Eliwood, taking her silence for disbelief, plunged onwards. "You seem surprised." There's an understatement. "'There goes another naïve lordling with his head in the clouds.' Something like that?"  
  
"No, never!" Fiora immediately wished her words back. It was too late to take back things spoken in haste, though, so she continued- better to say it all now. "But... I didn't imagine that a lordling of Lycia could think that way for long." Oh, why did you say that! You shouldn't have said that- he'll think you're an ungrateful little snob.  
  
But Eliwood didn't seem to notice her embarrassment. "You speak the truth, of course. But what I said was no lie."  
  
Fiora flushed deeply at that, struggling to retain her composure. "Lord Eliwood! I... You see, I... Speaking personally, I like that way of thinking... I just do not believe it possible."  
  
Eliwood turned to look at her, then grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
The red-haired lord began to walk more swiftly after that, catching up with the frontrunners of the group. The elder paladin leaned down to speak to him with a frown, but Eliwood merely smiled and nodded.  
  
What are they saying? Surely he isn't laughing at me? I thought him more polite than that.  
  
Staring firmly between Makar's ears, Fiora didn't allow her gaze to wander to the front of the line until the sun was high in the sky and she could no longer resist the temptation to stare at the back of a red-haired lordling's head, one who had such high ideals and beliefs that she shared, yet never had the courage to employ. 


End file.
